


Going Soft

by hardboiledbaby



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardboiledbaby/pseuds/hardboiledbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John liked to make a good impression as much as the next bloke. However, when that next bloke happened to be Sherlock Holmes, making any kind of impression at all was pretty much a lost cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Soft

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pudge](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/19988) by livia-carica. 



> Beta'd by the most excellent Dawnebeth, who loves me no matter what fandom I write in. Any remaining errors and Americanisms are all on me.

John studied the evidence with a critical eye and frowned. He didn't want to believe it, but he was a doctor, he knew what the number meant, and there was no denying the unequivocal truth in front of him.

He was going soft.

John stepped off the scale and considered his reflection in the mirror with resignation.

It was probably inevitable. John had always been stocky. Football during his school years and then military service had helped keep him trim, but that part of his life was behind him now. He was on the wrong side of 40 with a bad shoulder, and apparently no amount of dashing through the streets of London on Sherlock's heels was going to drop him back down to his fighting weight.

It wasn't a big deal, not really. He wasn't actually obese or unfit. No, he was just a few pounds over what was medically recommended, his BMI skating close to the line between normal and overweight. While it would be great if he could somehow manage to lose a stone, he was honest enough with himself to admit that wasn't likely to happen. His love of good food was not going to change anytime soon, and neither was his metabolism.

No, in the grand scheme of things it wasn't a big deal, and John didn't truly mind. Except... well. He was only human, after all. John wasn't particularly vain, but he was careful about his appearance and liked to make a good impression as much as the next bloke. However, when that next bloke happened to be Sherlock Holmes, making any kind of impression at all was pretty much a lost cause.

With his tall, slender frame, impeccable tailoring, arresting good looks, and distinctive baritone, Sherlock caught the attention of all who saw him. He was both amazingly brilliant and annoyingly abrasive and therefore impossible to ignore, whether one liked him or not. Everyone else simply faded into the background. 

Not that John was jealous. Hand to God, he really wasn't. Sherlock was his flatmate, his best friend. And now, remarkably, his lover.

He loved Sherlock, for all that the man was the most irritating git he'd ever met. Loved him for who he was, but John would have been lying if he claimed to be unmoved by Sherlock's undeniable physical beauty. Moved? Hell, Sherlock could steal his breath away without even trying. Whenever those striking eyes stared into John's, flashing like lightning, John was caught, pinned, mesmerized, every time.

No, John wasn't jealous, but he couldn't help resenting the unfairness of it all, just a little. And then there was also that nagging, worrisome voice in the back of his mind, the one that wondered what on earth this extraordinary creature saw in his decidedly ordinary, going-soft friend. And how long it might be before whatever it was he did see would cease to hold his interest.

John shook his head. There was no use in dwelling on that depressing thought, nor was there any sense in borrowing trouble. He sighed, sucked in his gut experimentally, and sighed again. Giving it up as a bad job, he turned to get dressed—

Sherlock was standing in the partially-open doorway of the bathroom, leaning casually against the jamb, watching him.

_Christ. Every damn time._

John felt his face go warm. "Sherlock—"

"God, you're an idiot." Sherlock reached in and wrapped his hand around John's bicep. He pulled John unceremoniously out of the bathroom.

"Wait, my clothes," John said, but Sherlock didn't pause.

"You won't need them," he said, dragging John into the bedroom.

He was right, as usual.

With reverent fingers and mouth and tongue, Sherlock made love to John. Slowly, thoroughly; oh God, so _very_ thoroughly. He traced the twist of scar tissue on John's shoulder with infinite tenderness, pressed his face against the curve of John's belly and kissed him there so sweetly that John felt his throat go tight.

This was more than opposites attracting. This was more than sex. This was two parts coming together, becoming whole. This was finding sanctuary of the heart and safe harbor for the soul. This was Sherlock needing him as much as John needed Sherlock. Wanting him. Loving him.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, bent his head to rest against the dark curls. "Okay, you're right," he murmured, when he could finally manage the words. "I'm an idiot."

John felt the smile against his skin. Then Sherlock chuckled, a sound of pure pleasure and relief. "So long as you're my idiot, that's alright."

"I am," John replied, and after a beat, added, "Yours, that is."

Sherlock lifted his face to stare at him and John felt the familiar catch and skip of his heart. Christ, was he ever going to get used to that look?

He fervently hoped not.

Sherlock cupped John's face in his hands. "And I am yours. I...." He hesitated, all at once with an uncertain expression that John found equal parts charming and heart-breaking. "I'm not certain that's a fair trade. I realise I'm no bargain. But you.... Everything I am, John Watson. Everything."

John pushed him down then, and kissed him hard, because he had to shut up the daft bastard before he said any more ridiculous things and snogging him seemed the best way to do it.

It was remarkably easy to get Sherlock where he wanted him. Maybe, just maybe, John hadn't gone quite as soft as he thought.

No, not soft at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [livia-carica](http://livia-carica.tumblr.com/), who asked for some chubby!John fic, and whose [lovely artwork](http://livia-carica.livejournal.com/24952.html) inspired this bit of mush :)


End file.
